Page 8 of Pack Obsession

"Figure what out?" Nash pushes away from his computers and stares at us, seeing he’s been quiet. "We were hired to do a job. Simple retrieval."

"Nothing’s simple with Julian Hayes," Logan mutters. "But what’s an extra day?"

I rub my jaw, thinking about the dig we did into Hayes before taking this job. On paper, he’s corporate America’s favorite success story—the ruthless but brilliant Alpha who turns failing companies into gold. But scratch that polished surface and things get darker. Three of his latest acquisitions had mysterious fires right before he made his offers. Another had its Omegaowner sign over everything after her brother had anaccident. The gangs that show up to negotiate with stubborn sellers always trace back to dead ends. And here we are, hunting down his runaway Omega like good little soldiers. I had a bad feeling about taking his job from the beginning, but we ended up accepting it because of the half-million-dollar payment.

Logan and Nash go back to the building schematics on the screen, but my mind keeps circling back to the Omega upstairs and what she’s got herself wrapped in.

In our line of work, secrets don’t just cost lives—they destroy everything.

Chapter

Three

CASEY

The world swims back into focus like diving into an ocean after a storm—murky, disorienting, with danger potentially lurking in every shadow. My grandmother used to say the sea teaches us its secrets slowly, but whatever these assholes injected me with is giving up its secrets all at once, leaving me dizzy and nauseous. They only intended to keep me knocked out to steal me, not kill me.

I press my palm against the cold window glass of the strange bedroom I find myself in, trying to ground myself. Miles of dense forest stretch out beneath a dipping sun, the trees swaying in a wind I can’t hear. No lights, no roads, no civilization. Fantastic. I’ve seen enough horror movies to know this setup never ends well for an Omega like me.

"Where the fuck am I?" The words come out raspy, my throat raw. Have I been screaming? The last clear memory I have is of those guys in black gear, the sharp sting of a needle, and then... nothing.

This day has gone from bad to worse in spectacular fashion.

God, my friends. The thought leaves me breathless. Danica had been close to me when the bus crashed, her voice high with panic as she shouted for us to run. Jess went in a differentdirection. And Kayla... the last thing I heard from her was a scream that still echoes in my skull.

We should never have separated, But when you’re being chased by Nexus guards, then masked Alphas show up, sometimes rules go out the window.

Speaking of windows...

I pull and tug at the one in front of me, searching for any weakness. Nothing. It’s sealed tight, probably reinforced like the ones at our Nexus school.

This room itself is sparse, just a queen-sized bed and absolutely nothing else. No lamp, no chairs.

Something about the deliberate emptiness makes my skin crawl. This isn’t their first rodeo. These guys know exactly what they’re doing, which means I’m either in a very professional trafficking operation, or…

No. Don’t go there, Casey.

I’m at the door, turning the knob, but it’s locked. Of course, it is.

My fingers find the small pin hidden in the pocket of my jeans, and a ghost of a smile touches my lips. My brother would be proud—he’s the one who taught me this particular skill, after all. I need to get hold of him, tell him to come find me, tell him I’m alive.

The streets aren’t always kind to Omegas, Case,he’d say, demonstrating the proper technique, always protective of me since we lost our parents.Gotta be prepared for anything.

I crouch by the door, working the pin into the lock with trembling fingers.Focus.The mechanism is decent quality—not the cheap stuff Nexus uses, but not impossible, either. A bead of sweat rolls down my spine as I feel for the tumblers.

Come on, come on...

The lock clicks softly, and I have to bite my lip to hold back a triumphant laugh.Take that, kidnapper Alphas.My brotheralways said I was a natural at this—probably not what our parents had in mind for their little Omega daughter, but they’re not exactly around to object anymore.

The thought sobers me instantly.

I ease the door open, holding my breath. The hallway beyond is something out of an upscale mountain resort magazine—all polished hardwood floors and artful black and white photographs in simple frames. Wall sconces cast warm light. Definitely not the zip-tied-to-a-chair-in-a-basement scenario I was half expecting.

My steps are silent on the wooden floors as I creep forward. Each photo I pass shows a different landscape—mountains, forests, oceans that remind me painfully of home, of our family trips to Hawaii. Of surfing with Dad before... before everything.

The craftsmanship of everything around me speaks of serious money. This place is like some billionaire’s luxury retreat. Every window I pass is sealed like mine, and I catch glimpses of security cameras disguised as decorative elements. These guys are either paranoid or they have really good reasons to want privacy. Neither option is particularly comforting.

Voices drift up from somewhere downstairs, male with that distinctive Alpha resonance of dominance.

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